


Love and Loathing

by Amatara



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-20
Updated: 2011-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-26 07:58:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/280646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amatara/pseuds/Amatara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Londo and Susan find themselves bonding over booze.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love and Loathing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maspalio](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=maspalio).
  * Inspired by [Fanart: Susan and Londo and booze](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/5401) by goodlordthatsmoist. 



> Set after the season 2 episode "Soul Mates", aka the one involving Londo and his wives.

"Ah, Commander!" Londo swept into the Zocalo, plastering on his most jovial face. "You seem like a person in dire need of company! May I…?" He took possession of the chair before she could open her mouth.

In truth, Susan Ivanova looked as if the _last_ thing she wanted was company, but Londo needed an ally, and he did not think the commander would turn him down. He was not supposed to be drinking, Franklin had said. Not until the poison was fully out of his system, and Vir, dutiful as always, had taken it as a clue to remove every drop of Brivari from Londo's quarters. But he had just seen Timov off to the transport, and frankly, this whole affair had left him a craving a stiff drink. Not to mention a few words with a kindred spirit. Lacking the latter, an equally affronted spiriit would do nicely enough.

"If I may ask, commander, something appears to be troubling you?" Londo gestured at a passing waiter and ordered a Brivari – let's make it a double, yes? And a vodka for the lady – before turning back. He found Ivanova glaring at him over the rim of her drink; not her first one of the evening, by the looks of it.

"Goddamn Talia Winters." She downed the contents of her glass in one swallow. "Thinks a little boot-licking can make her my friend."

Londo blinked; he hadn't actually expected a reply other than 'mind your own business'. This sudden ebullience had to be the alcohol speaking, but, now he thought about it, the commander _had_ been displaying a hostility towards miss Winters that seemed out of proportion. In his experience, there were only two reasons why people would claim to loathe one another. Either because they _did_ – as, for instance, himself and that cursed Narn who called himself ambassador – or as a refusal to admit they were, in fact, feeling something entirely different. It was not always easy to distinguish the two. Take Timov. Until today, Londo had been fully convinced she belonged the first category. Now, he no longer dared to say. Which did not mean he could not tell precisely what was brewing between the commander and Talia Winters. The question was only what to do about it.

"Allow me to give you a hint of advice, commander," he said, conspiratorially, and dragged his chair closer.


End file.
